


asleep

by ugliegay



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi Week, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Recovery, tw for description and mentions of suicide attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 19:52:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ugliegay/pseuds/ugliegay
Summary: For as long as Akaashi has lived, he’s been asleep.





	asleep

**Author's Note:**

> For Akaashi Week day 3: angst
> 
> This is my love letter to everyone who has been kind enough to be there for me, particularly my partners and my Seven (7) children, who have been there through every up and down. Thanks to you all, I am here today and much happier than I used to be. 
> 
> This is for you, my dear readers, for Haikyuu, the show the saved me, and for every kind soul I’ve met because of this show. I love y’all. 
> 
> tw for SUICIDE ATTEMPT DESCRIPTION AND MENTION

Akaashi has always been the quiet kid, the child with sleepy dark eyes. Mild mannered, little Akaashi always seems as if he’s just waking up from slumber. He carries his favorite owl plush around by its wing and blinks slowly at strangers.

Quiet. The youngest Akaashi is quiet. He reads for much of his free time. He has a fascination with owls and spends hours wondering how life would be if he had been born with tawny brown wings on his back.

His mother says that he has his head in the clouds. She’s right.

-

It’s one of those days. Akaashi knows it the moment he wakes up. Grey days, where everything is heavy and too much, where he wakes up with eyes half lidded and can’t bring himself to open them wide enough to let the light in. He dresses. He eats. He answers in monosyllables when his mother asks him questions. Talking is worth too much weight.

Akaashi sticks his headphones in on the walk to school. It’s only three blocks away.

He’s got a weird music taste, Bokuto always says so. Just piano, soft violin, the strumming of guitars, hardly a word if he can help it. Sometimes words are too much. Sometimes human voices only contribute to the noise and the chaos in his head. And it’s not Chopin’s Etude in whatever bullshit key signature; he’s not pretentious enough to pretend he likes that sort of thing. Just calming piano compositions made for people like him, made for him and his sleepy eyes and the storm in his mind.

It’s raining, still a little dark. His umbrella wafts in the wind. The notes in his ears drift down at a slowing tempo, matching his lazy footfalls. Thoughts rush too fast for him to keep up with them. He blinks and imagines himself someplace, years on in the future, close against a chest of someone he loves.

Akaashi is experienced enough to know love can’t fix him, naive enough to long for it anyway.

Practice goes as well as expected. His sets to Bokuto are garbage, and Bokuto foolishly blames it on himself. Akaashi, for all he’s worth, let’s him because he’s a terrible friend. By the end of practice, he sweaty and so exhausted his bones ache. Not good enough for the team. Not good enough for Bokuto. Can’t set properly, can’t do anything right.

Akaashi envies Bokuto and his ability to proclaim his upswings and downswings out loud with no fear. He’s got some form of personality disorder Akaashi can’t recall and he doesn’t let anyone forget. Day two on Fukurodani’s men’s team had brought Bokuto to hold an informal questionnaire in the locker room. He had stood up on the bench and yelled. _I am trans. I am gay. I have blah blah personality disorder. Any questions?_

It’s that forwardness Akaashi admires. Bokuto knows how his mind works, had taught the entire team how to deal with it when it started acting abnormally, did all of this without any ounce of shame.

He wonders what would happen if he told his parents about the grey. How would they react to the gasping breaths and crying alone, to his rushing thoughts, to the mellow piano on his way to school?

Akaashi skips afternoon practice to sleep.

-

Major Depression Disorder coupled with Generalized Anxiety Disorder. 100mg of Sertraline, once a day taken by mouth. Psychotherapy every other week. One attempt against his own life.

His mother had cried when she found him, poised at the edge of his bed, a handful of sleeping pills in his palm and tears in his eyes.

_Keiji, what are you doing?!_

Three sleepy blinks. He had looked back into dark green eyes, just like his own.

_I’m so tired, kaa-san._

-

Bokuto is the first friend he tells. He’s been on the medicine for a few weeks, seen Mari-sensei four times, enough to understand that what he’s been caught doing that day was mistake, clouded by the lies his mind told him.

Akaashi’s hands shake. “I have depression, Bokuto-san.” He averts his eyes to the rain falling outside. His fingers knot and curl into each other. “Anxiety as well.”

They’re in his bedroom. Akaashi thinks maybe it’s his eagerness, but the room looks brighter than it had weeks ago; less grey and more soft green. Like it was supposed. Bokuto, for his part, has never been grey, always a ball of radiant sunshine, but even now he’s brighter.

It takes him aback when Bokuto wraps Akaashi in tight embrace. His hand squeezes so tight he can barely breathe, but for once Akaashi feels like there’s someone outside his therapist's office who understands enough to sympathize.

He tells Bokuto about the attempt, about his mother’s panic and father’s devoid disappointment. It’s almost too much. His chest tightens and constricts, but Bokuto has him.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto says gently. “You’re so strong.”

Akaashi fights the urge to deny the compliment. It’s something Mari-sensei’s been working on with him. “Thank you,” he replies, bowing his head.

-

_Love cannot fix you. You know that, Keiji-kun. You told me you know that._

_I know. There’s a stupid part of me that still believes that it’ll make that ache in my chest go away. I’m only 17. It’s stupid. It’s stupid._

_Absolutely not. It’s your feelings. You’re smart enough to recognize your naivety as well. You’re smart. If you stop saying those self deprecating things, you’ll be able to recognize your own worth._

_Thank you. I’ve been trying harder to accept compliments. My class representative told me she’s glad to see me smiling more often._

_That’s amazing, Keiji-kun! You’re learning._

_Thank you. Thank you so very much._

-

After Akaashi’s graduation, he goes out to celebrate. His parents buy ramen for the entire team, all gathered under the gentle lights of the izakaya. Bokuto, Komi, and Sarukui sit in the back of the room, faces hardened and matured in the year they’ve spent apart.

When Akaashi glances to Bokuto, he thinks of courage, of standing up on practice benches with an open mind and with a loud shout, he draws the attention of his teammates, his friends, the people he loves.

They stare up at Akaashi. He draws strength from the admiration in his youngest kohai’s eyes and the shock from the oldest. They’re bathed in red and orange and gold, like flames in a fire once dead and Akaashi doesn’t think he’s ever felt so alive.

He raises his glass of cider, clears his throat, locks eyes with Bokuto whose pride could be felt from across the room.

“A year and a half ago, just four days into the new year, I had made the decision to end my own life.”

Akaashi says it clearly; there’s no mistaking the words that flow from his mouth. The ripple through his attentive crowd is enough to send a tremor through his spine. Shock. Horror. Sadness. For most, it’s a side of Akaashi that has never been seen; the vulnerable boy he’s never shown.

Bokuto keeps on smiling. It’s enough to give him the strength to continue.

“I didn’t succeed, thankfully, and through the help of my parents and my closest friends, I am standing here before you all today.” He drops to a quieter tone. “I’d like to think I’m happier, more secure here, stable enough to have been your captain and lead you through to victory at nationals. I’ve never been more honored to be apart of such an amazing group of people.”

He doesn’t look around, only at Bokuto.

“The point is, I didn’t believe I’d be here to become captain, see us off to nationals, graduate. I didn’t believe I had the strength to lead you all and I’m so happy you proved me wrong.”

There’s the sound of a few sniffles up front, where the first years are.

“So I’d like to propose a toast,” Akaashi says. “To victory. To recovery. To choosing life. I have never been so grateful for a failed attempt.”

He raises his glass, fire burning hot in his veins. His smile sears onto his face and Bokuto is next to him now, radiating pride and love and joy.

“Kanpai!” Akaashi shouts.

He’s _alive_.

-

People don’t fix people. Love doesn’t heal, Akaashi had been right about that. When Bokuto kisses him under the red lights of the izakaya, he’s past mistakes still weigh down on his shoulders. His brow furrows, he can’t relax.

When Akaashi pulls away, there’s a tear run down his face. Bokuto smiles at him, bumps their foreheads together, presses chaste kisses against crimson lips.

“I’m so proud of you,” Bokuto whispers, right into his ear.

People don’t fix people. Love doesn’t heal. Akaashi isn’t whole, not yet and it’s not Bokuto that can do anything to help that. He plays with their entwined fingers, wondering idly if anyone can help it. Probably not.

He closes his eyes. Mari-sensei’s voice fills his head.

_Healing comes from thyself. Healing comes from thyself. Healing comes from thyself._

Walking home, hand in hand with Bokuto, he feels peace flowing through his veins, like waking up after a proper night’s sleep. The sun sets over the suburbs of Tokyo, bleeding yellows fading into pinks and purples, blues and oranges.

People don’t fix people. A lover shouldn’t be someone you can’t live without, just someone you’d prefer not to let go.

He’s a catalyst to his own happiness.

So he makes a choice, to try and stay awake, to look for the color, to grab Bokuto’s hand and run home with giggles flowing from his lips.

Akaashi is awake.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading. any reads, comments, and/or kudos are much appreciated


End file.
